


The one where Sansa Stark’s Christmas spirit is in jeopardy

by Thehornyhornyhufflepuff



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Eggnog, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Joffrey Baratheon is a Little Shit, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Reindeer bukake, Sandor is happy to help, Sansa needs to be cheered up, Smut, Sweatpants, fun times at the office, publishing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thehornyhornyhufflepuff/pseuds/Thehornyhornyhufflepuff
Summary: It all started with an office Christmas party, a few stuffed animals and some eggnog.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 115





	The one where Sansa Stark’s Christmas spirit is in jeopardy

**Author's Note:**

> For the purpose of this lighthearted holiday onshot, I have decided to make both Sandor and Sansa’s backstories vastly less traumatic. Some core insecurities remain, but neither of them has waded through hell the way they have in canon.

Sansa Stark knew something most people didn’t. The exact moment her Christmas spirit died.  
Glancing up at the clock above the reception desk of Westerlands Publishing, she noted that the time of death was 22:14. 

Her eyes returned to the scene before her. The buffet table. Someone had taken the plushie reindeers she had brought from home to decorate, and arranged them in various creative positions. Interspersed between dirty napkins and cookie crumbs, her reindeers were going at it, their previously innocent faces now seemingly leering at her. Worst by far was the circle of plushies, with Rudolph taking center stage, covered from head to toe with drizzled eggnog. The whole thing looked absolutely obscene.

Sansa closed her eyes but the image remained. It would be burned into her retinas until the end of time, she was sure of it. The sickly sweet smell of rum and vanilla bean was making her queasy and the stereo was blaring a horrible dubstep version of the Nutcracker suite.

The champagne she had been sipping must have taken its toll, because she suddenly felt an overwhelming need to cry.

“Looks like Dancer and and Prancer is having one a hell of a party.” A slightly slurred voice said over her shoulder.

Sansa turned to see Bronn standing behind her, with a wide grin on his face. He had traces of a berry red lipstick smeared around his mouth, making him look a bit like a lecherous clown.  
Margaery was pressed up against him with one arm draped around his waist. Smiling dazedly, she used the back of her hand to remove the last of the lipstick that Bronn hadn’t managed to inhale.

Sansa liked Bronn. There had been a time in her life where she would have found his uncouth behaviour and his raunchy sense of humour a bit distressing, but living with Margaery for the past year had helped her build more of a tolerance for that sort of thing.

Right now she wanted him far away so she could grieve her toys and her Christmas spirit in peace, without his witty remarks ruining that too.

Bronn leaned over and wiped some of the eggnog from Rudolph’s nose, revealing the bright red underneath.

“And old Rudy got the short end of the stick. Literally.” Bronn’s throaty laugh at his own joke made her unreasonably mad. 

As soon as she had sobered up somewhat, she would get to the bottom of this. Who in their right mind could do such a thing to a couple of innocent stuffed animals? 

Margaery snorted loudly. Her friend could usually pick up on Sansa’s mood quite easily, but tonight she was riding the high of someone who had just hooked up with the crush they had been pining over for ages. She could expect no pity from her tonight.

“Oh, I don’t think he minds.”, Margaery cooed. “It can be a treat with the right person” she said, reaching over and grabbing hold of Bronn’s hand, slowly bringing it towards her slightly parted lips.

Sansa had the good sense to look away quickly. So quickly, in fact that it left her a bit dizzy. Focusing intently on the various different stains that littered the table cloth, she didn’t even have to try to imagine what was going on behind her. She could have bet every single thing she owned that if she hadn’t turned away, she would have seen Margaery sucking seductively on Bronn’s thumb.

Stone cold sober or completely hammered. Nothing seemed to be off limits when it came to what Margaery wanted. That was something she truly admired about her free spirited friend. Her bravery. More than once it had made Sansa wonder what her life would have been like if she had been just a tiny bit more like her.

Bronn whispered something unintelligible and Margaery giggled again.

She sighed inwardly. This was definitely the last nail in coffin when it came to her party mood.

“Come on Sans, they will look good as new once you’ve thrown them in the washing machine.”, Margaery said.

Turning around, she saw a hint of concern in her friends eyes.

“I guess.”, she mumbled.

Christmas should be filled with snow. Not the highly questionable use of eggnog that was displayed in front of her.

“I think I’m just going to go home.”, she said.

“No, Sansa, it’s still early! We need this, both of us.”, she pleaded.

Margaery relinquished herself from Bronn and put her hands on Sansa’s shoulders, stroking them comfortingly. She knew she was far gone, because that small gesture almost sent her over the edge. If she didn’t get out of there soon she would become one of the few Christmas cliches she wasn’t a fan of. The coworker who started bawling at the office party after getting drunk on the company dime. No. Whatever dignity she had left after a crushing couple of weeks would be coming home with her tonight.

“You look so pretty in your dress, sweetling.”, Margaery smiled. “It would be a shame to waste it on a night on the couch.”

The couch. Sansa almost shuddered. She had spent every waking moment at home on their grey Härlanda sectional, over the past few weeks. Surrounded by tissue paper and half eaten candy bars. The classics when it came to being dumped.

The thought of going home to a dark and empty apartment seemed less appealing than staying, Sansa thought bitterly.

“Fine.”, she sighed. “I’m just going to go freshen up.”

As she made her way to the ladies room, her thoughts turned to Joffrey once more.  
It had been two weeks since he had dumped her most unceremoniously via text.  
Sansa wasn’t sure if any of the tears she had cried since then were for him. The feeling of so rudely being dropped back at square one was probably what stung the most.

Well not entirely back to square one, she reminded herself for the fourth time that day. She still had her job. Margaery, her former college friend and current roommate had gotten her an interview six months ago at Westerlands Publishing, one of the largest publishing companies in the country. She still had to pinch herself sometimes to believe it. 

Sansa looked at herself in the mirror. At least she didn’t look like she had spent the past weeks crying her eyes out. And Margaery was right. The dress she wore deserved better than to be peeled off and replaced with sweats, just yet. It was long sleeved, made of the softest green velvet and fitted, without being too tight. A dress that positively screamed Christmas, according to Sansa.

Running her tongue over her teeth, she winced slightly at the sticky film of sugar that coated them. Sansa tried to figure out when she had last eaten something that wasn’t frosted or dipped in chocolate. She wasn’t surprised when she drew a blank. 

A stick of gum would solve at least one of her problems, she thought, relieved at having a plan of action. However small. 

Margaery always kept gum in her top drawer, next to her “in case of emergency”-pack of cigarettes. Sansa turned around and headed towards the corridor that housed her friends office.  
Besides gum, she knew she would find a cozy armchair in there and one of the softest blankets she had ever snuggled up in. She could hole up in there until Margaery decided it was time to go home. Hopefully without Bronn in tow.

Her feet ached and she could almost feel the blisters forming on her feet from the new heels she was wearing. The shoes she had bought to wear at Christmas dinner with Joffrey’s parents. 

Sansa kicked them off in a sudden fit of anger, not giving a damn if she scuffed the heels in the process. Then she stomped her foot on the carpeted floor a few times for good measure, knowing that nobody was around to see her acting like a toddler having a tantrum. 

She had made plans for Christmas with him, her favourite holiday by a mile, and then he had cancelled said plans by dumping her. He was the Grinch incarnate, Sansa decided. She regretted it almost immediately. Comparing the Grinch to Joffrey was supremely unfair to the Grinch. At least he had a heart that could grow three sizes.

Arya and Gendry were currently backpacking through South America and Robb, Jon and Theon had rented a cabin with their girlfriends and were skiing their holiday away. When her parents had heard that she, along with the majority of her other siblings were scattered to the winds, they had decided to take her two younger brothers to Hawaii for Christmas. 

Her heart ached for a time when things had been simple. When December was one long hallmark moment filled with hot cocoa by the fire, snow angels and carollers. A magical winter wonderland she’d shared with the people she loved the most.

Her New Years resolution would be a a thorough spiritual makeover, Sansa decided, as she marched through the corridor. She would buy a journal and a special pen and write affirmations every day. Be bold. Be brave, she would write in her journal. She would seized every single moment and never ever let another blonde headed narcissist trod all over her.

Filled to the brim with the rightful indignation of the newly dumped and pretty tipsy, Sansa pushed open the door to Margaery’s office with a lot more force than she intended.

“If you bring any of that Christmas crap past this threshold I’ll fucking gut you.”, someone growled from behind a computer screen.

Sansa stopped dead in the doorway of the room that was most certainly not Margaery’s office. There was no soft blankets in sight and no comfy chair. In fact, she had just walked into the most masculine looking room she had ever been in, complete with polished steel, sharp edges and a seating area clad in cognac leather.

She had stumbled into Mr Clegane’s office with her shoes in her hand, without even knocking.

Mr Clegane looked up from the computer and his face went from frowning to utterly confused and then back to frowning.

“Are you lost?”, he asked.

Sansa noticed that the hand that was still gripping the doorknob was becoming a bit slippery against the cool metal. 

“Umm.” was all she could think to so eloquently say to her bosses boss and the head of publishing.

Clearing her throat she decided it would do her no good to try to come up with a lie. Neither would option two, which was trying to shuffle out of the room and pretend nothing had happened.

“I thought this was Margaery’s office, sir.” she mumbled. “I apologize.”

Something close to annoyance, but not quite flashed across his face. Then he gave her a tired half smile. 

“No need to call me sir. Clegane will do fine.”, he grumbled. 

She nodded and tried to give him what could pass for a sincere smile. Inwardly she was cursing herself for her own stupidity. If barging into his office like a pissed off steamroller had been the only embarrassing moment she shared with her boss that day, it would have been okay. But it wasn’t. Her cheeks began to burn at the thought of the memory.

Sansa had arrived early to the office that same morning. Early enough that she had been a bit worried that the her keycard wouldn’t work. Her cover story was, if anyone asked, that she wanted to get some last minute work done before the holidays. The real reason she had dragged herself out of bed long before she usually woke up, was the overstuffed bags of Christmas ornaments she was bringing in with her. No one else had volunteered to decorate the lobby for the party and Sansa had jumped at the chance. It was a golden opportunity to channel her frustrations into a tornado of glitter and snow from a spray can.

She realised pretty early that she might have overdone it a bit, when it came to the sheer amount of decorations she had hauled with her. So many in fact, that she had to take two trips to get it all up to her floor. 

When she was waiting for the elevator to take her down to her car once more, the doors suddenly dinged open.

The first thing she noticed had been droplets of water that coloured his dark grey shirt black. Small patches of fabric that clung a bit tighter to his broad chest. He had a towel slung over his shoulders and must have just come from the company gym downstairs.

Then there was the sweatpants. Sansa had later tried to excuse her behavior with the fact that she hadn’t had her morning coffee, but that defence was flimsy at best. Truth was that the sight of her boss in those sweatpants had shook her to her core. Quiet literally.

When she had looked up, Mr Clegane had been frowning down at her. After that, her memory of the morning became a bit foggy, as she tried to decorate the embarrassment away. Not a square inch of the common areas was left untouched but Sansa was still blushing when it came time for the morning meeting at 9.30.

And now her cheeks were most likely beet red once more. She thanked her lucky star that his office was dimly lit.

The silence stretched on for a moment too long and Sansa had started backing out of the room, mortified, when he spoke again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be out there getting plastered with the rest of them?”, he said, waving his large hand in the general direction of the ongoing Christmas party. 

“I was looking for gum.”, she said sheepishly. “Why aren’t you out there?” The question sounded bold, even to her own slightly inebriated ears.

Mr Clegane opened a drawer in his desk and riffled through it.

“Not much for parties.” he said, as he tossed her a pack of gum.

Sansa surprised herself by catching it, albeit a bit clumsily. It also surprised her that the gum that he had thrown her was melon flavoured.

“Beside, I’ve got a conference call coming in later from overseas.“ He gave the computer a dirty look. “This rude fucking agent probably gets off on making me wait up for him.”

Mr Clegane pulled his hand through his dark hair and sighed. There was a glass of whiskey on the table and half a sandwich. The absence of anything green, red or gold in his office felt unnatural to Sansa.

“Anyways, I’ve got a shit ton of reading to get through and thought I might get some done while I wait.”, he said, pointing at a towering pile of manuscripts that were neatly stacked on his desk. 

Sansa had been sipping champagne for the better part of an hour and it must have loosened her tongue a bit, because words suddenly bubbled up and past her lips before she could stop them.

“I can keep you company.”, she heard herself say.

Mr Clegane raised his eyebrows. Then he smirked.

“And let you miss out on all the festivities?”, he said. “Not when you did such a fine job of decorating the place.”

She must have involuntarily made a face as she remembered the state she had left poor, defiled Rudolph in.

“What?”, he asked. To her surprise he looked genuinely interested.

Sansa fiddled with her sleeve.

“Promise not to laugh.” she said, already feeling the heat creep up her cheeks again.

His interest had been piqued and he gave her a quick nod.

“Well, someone did something to my reindeers.”, she began, belatedly realising that she probably sounded like a lunatic.

Cleaganes face went blank for a moment, then she saw the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.

“Mhm.”, He tried and succeeded to sound politely professional.

Damn it all to hell, Sansa sighed inwardly. So much for surviving the night with her dignity intact. Might as well try to act as if she hadn’t been almost crying over the whole mess less than ten minutes ago, she thought.

“Someone arranged a few of my decorative reindeers in a circle of sorts. Doing something that would definitely put them on the naughty list. Then that same someone decided to pour eggnog all over the scene, to symbolize, you know...” she finished in a mock whisper, trying to ignore her flaming cheeks.

Mr Clegane pressed his lips together into a hard line. His grey eyes glittered with suppressed laughter.

“Fine, go ahead.” she sighed.

His laugh was rough and booming, filling the entire room with its sound. It was infectious and Sansa found herself laughing along, altough not as heartily.

When Mr Clegane had collected himself, he gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Sansa sat down. The chair was surprisingly comfortable for something so stiff and expensive looking.

“Okay. Who am I firing?”, he asked, trying to keep his face straight.

“What?”, she asked.

He leaned over the desk, conspiratorially.

“You must have a suspect. My money is on Bronn. He’s a deviant fucker.”, he smirked.

“That would have been my guess too, but he’s had his tongue down Margaery’s throat all night.”, she smiled.

His eyebrows shot up once more.

Most people assumed Sansa was a prude. Maybe she was, compared to some. Okay, the majority of the people she knew, she conceded. But why did that have to be such a bad thing?  
It was when it kept her from getting what she wanted, a tiny voice supplied deep within her mind. Sansa pushed it down immediately.

Mr Clegane tilted backwards in his chair and rested his hands behind his head. The buttons in his white shirt were doing an admirable job at holding the garment together over his chest when he stretched, Sansa thought, before immediately looking away.

Thankfully, he seemed oblivious to her wandering gaze. There was a small smile playing on his lips.

“About time.” he hummed.

When he caught the questioning look Sansa gave him, he sat up straight again. 

“Well, they’re both such dirty, flirty bastards that they cancel each other out. They have been dancing around the issue for a long time, trying to suss out if the other one is interested or just fucking around. They are perfect for each other.” He shrugged.

Sansa found it oddly sweet that he had given his coworkers love life so much thought.

He must have noticed the way she was looking at him because he cleared his throat and reached for his whiskey. 

“I’m not some sap, mind you.”, he grumbled, and took a sip. “They are cut from the same filthy minded fucking cloth is all I’m saying.”

Sansa supposed he was right, but decided to change the subject. She wasn’t in the mood to discuss budding romance. 

“What are you reading?”, she asked.

Mr Clegane turned the manuscript over and peered down at the title page.

“From Green to White.”, he huffed, looking at the thick bundle of papers on the desk with a look of pure loathing. “It’s some shite about a washed up golf pro who finds himself while climbing some damn mountain.” 

“Sounds riveting.”, she smiled.

Sansa spent most of her day reading manuscripts before sending the promising ones up the ladder. At least five times a month a manuscript with basically the same premise landed on her desk. It seemed people found themselves all over the place. At sea or in some wast national park. More than once these travelogues had made Sansa wonder if it meant she was doomed when it came to her own self discovery. Hiking and sailing had never really been her thing.

“Gotta get through the lot before the 31st.”, he snorted. “I like to start the year with a clean slate.” 

“I can help.”, Sansa offered.

He regarded her for a moment. Then his eyes turned to his desk and the stacks upon stacks of paper that was waiting for him there.

“Suit yourself.”, he said, and pushed the large pile of manuscripts over to her. ”But you have to go in blind. That it my own personal rule. No cherry picking or else the pile would be ten feet tall.”

Sansa made a show of closing her eyes and then, for good measure, she placed her left hand over her face. She placed her finger on the pile of manuscripts and dragged it up and down until she stopped over one of them. 

“What did you get?”, he asked, with a crooked grin.

Sansa looked down at the cover of the manuscript. The font was written in Courier, which almost always meant some hipster had chosen it in Word to give the title page some edge. Not this time though, she thought. This was the real deal, with slight smudges at the edges, written by someone how had been clicking away at an actual typewriter.

“The comprehensive guide to Ornithology in Boreal Forests.”, she said, faintly.

Mr Clegane started laughing again. 

Sansa’s stomach rumbled. It had been doing it on and off for the past twenty minutes, which had prompted Mr Clegane to go “loot the staff room” as he himself had put it.

They had been reading and swapping notes for the better part of an hour. She was sitting on the floor with a manuscript in her lap. Mr Clegane had been sitting in the same position on the couch the entire time but Sansa needed to move around while she read. Margaery still wouldn’t let her forget about the time she found Sansa in their dry tub after she had exhausted all of her other reading spots.

He hadn’t looked up when she found herself on the floor, but she could see the faint traces of a smile as she plonked down on the grey carpet.

She was surprised that she felt so at ease in his office. In his presence. 

Some journalist somewhere had dubbed Mr Clegane the bad boy of the publishing world. It had taken Sansa three days of working at Westerlands Publishing to realise just how ridiculous that nickname really was. Sure, one could argue that he had the looks to back it up, with his tall muscular build and shoulder length dark hair. And the scars she supposed. Faint lines that ran up and down his right cheek. But if that was the only basis for it, it seemed really unfair.

Those who worked for him seldom had a bad word to say about him, not counting Bronn’s incessant ribbing. He was well respected even among his competitors and she knew he could be downright gallant. Once, when she had left the office late, he had walked her down to her car without being prompted.

Looking around the room, Sansa drew the conclusion that he was a man who liked things to be neat and tidy. That wasn’t exactly the mark of a bad boy. Besides, anyone who would call Mr Clegane a boy clearly had something very wrong with their eyes. 

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Margaery.

Sweetling, did you Uber? Couldn’t find you. I’m going home with Bronn.

Sansa typed a reply. A boldfaced lie, but she wasn’t sure how she was going to explain the evenings turn of events over text to a drunk Margaery.

Yeah, was tired. Have fun!

The ding of her reply was almost instantaneous.

Wish me fuck! 

Sansa smiled down at the screen. She suspected there would be no luck needed.

She had just finished a chapter when Mr Clegane returned bearing gifts. He was carrying two bottles of sparkling water and various small bags of snacks.

“It was a bloody challenge finding something out there that wasn’t coated it cinnamon.”, he huffed, closing the door behind him with his hip.

As he tossed his spoils in the middle of the floor next to the manuscripts Sansa’s stomach growled once more.

“Go on.”, he laughed, sinking down on the floor to join her. 

He didn’t have to tell her twice and she immediately dove for a packet of cashews. 

He was leaning his back against the couch and Sansa was struck by the fact that she had never seen such a tall person sprawled on the floor before. 

“Why don’t you like Christmas?”, she asked, as she popped a cashew in her mouth. She almost chocked on it when she saw him stiffen.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. It was probably a pretty personal question. She looked up at him, an apology already on her tongue.

“Don’t look so spooked, I won’t bite.”, he rasped, but he looked a bit more guarded than he did when he first sat down. “Let’s just say that my house growing up wasn’t overflowing with Christmas spirit as much as the regular type of spirits.”, he said, downing an invisible drink. Once you’ve seen Santa punch drunk on the living room floor with sick in his beard, it takes some of the fun out of it.”

Her stomach twisted once more, but this time it wasn’t because she was hungry.  
The thought of a child having to witness something like that on Christmas, or any other day of the year filled her with a suffocating sadness.

“I’m sorry.”, she whispered.

He shrugged, but his grey eyes softened when they met hers.

“Don’t need you to be sorry.”, he said. Then his lips twisted into a mischievous smirk. “What I do need is for you to stop hogging the cashews.” 

Sansa smiled warmly. She didn’t want to toss them at him willy nilly after he had decided to open up to her, so she stood up and walked over to where he was sitting. His eyes were still on hers when she handed him the bag of cashews. When he reached for them, his fingers briefly grazed hers. A warm tingle spread across her skin and for a moment she wondered if he had lingered.

Sansa hesitated. Only for a split second, but that was all it took for the tiny voice inside her to grow louder and more forceful. DO NOT RETURN TO WHERE YOU WERE SITTING, it positively screamed at her. For the first time in her life, Sansa listened. 

She sunk down to the floor next to him. There was still some space between them but she could smell his cologne from here. Spicy and warm. He smelled nice.

Leaning forward she rifled through the heap of snacks until she found one of her favorites. Starbursts. As she was unwrapping one of them, a yellow one, she decided fair was fair. He had confided in her and she would do the same to him.

“My boyfriend dumped me two weeks ago.”, she said. “You asked me before why I wasn’t in the mood for a party. That’s why.”

“Good.”, he rumbled.

“Excuse me?”, Sansa whipped around, caught somewhere between outrage at the rudeness of statement and a jolt of something else. Excitement?

He met her eyes without a single trace of remorse.

“He’s a spoiled little shit that one.”, he growled.

Sansa’s eyebrows shot up.

“You know Joffrey?”, she asked.

Mr Clegane nodded, his face twisting as if he had smelled something sour. Only someone who had met Joff would make such a face just by hearing his name. He must have seen him on one of the few occasions when he had bothered to come pick her up at her desk instead of waiting in the car for her.

“I’ve met him a few times at events. His stepfather is a shareholder in the company I used to work at.” he explained.

“Yeah.”, Sansa sighed and twisted the yellow wrapping paper between her fingers. “He did it over text.”

Mr Clegane frowned. 

“Arsehole.”, he growled. “You deserve so much better.”

Five words. Five tiny words that made her feel better than she had in months.

Sansa looked up at him. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but she thought she could see his Adam’s apple bob slightly. As if he was trying to swallow the words he had just spoken.

Be brave. Be bold.

She dove for him. A rushed sense of now or never combined with the height difference resulted in a less than graceful clash of her lips against his. Sansa was ready to sink through the floor when he made a sort of surprised yelp. To her immense relief and pleasure, it only took him a moment to reciprocate and when he did it with a lot more finesse than she had shown. 

Deepening the kiss, his hands snaked their way up her back and into her hair, where his touch sent sparks flying up and down her spine. Then he abruptly pulled back a few inches, leaving Sansa breathless and wobbly.

“I feel like an ass for asking, but how much did you have to drink?”, he rasped. His pupils were blown to the point where his eyes almost looked black. 

“I only had some champagne.”, she breathed.

“Thank Christ for that.”, he said and the he was on her once more.

It didn’t take long until Sansa found herself straddled across his thighs with her hands around his neck. He kissed her with abandon and with a hunger that turned her on more than anything ever had up until that point.

His hands were planted firmly on her bottom and when she made the move to scoot closer to him, he readily helped. The velvet of her dress rode up as she spread her legs further. Sansa gasped as the most intimate part of her made contact with him. Even through the fabric separating them, the sensation had her panting. She rocked her hips experimentally and shivered when she managed to pull a low groan from his throat. He squeezed her cheeks and guided her motions until he hit the spot that turned her legs to jelly.

She needed to see his chest. Feel him there, where those droplets of water had touched his skin hours earlier. A lifetime ago. Sansa continued rocking against him slowly as her fingers reached for the top button of his shirt. 

Then the loud beeping noise started. For a wild moment she thought the noice had been triggered because she had begun unbuttoning his shirt. Some sort of built in burglary alarm against sticky fingers.

Then it hit her.

“Oh, the call.”, she shrieked, as she flew to her feet.

Mr Clegane joined her, a bit more reluctantly. Then he smiled down at her and grabbed her by the hips, depositing her gently on his desk.

“But..”, she began, motioning towards the computer where the call signal continued beeping.

He bent down and with one good yank he ripped the cord to the monitor from the outlet. The noise stopped.

“Technical difficulties.”, he rasped and bent down to kiss her neck.

Sansa felt his smile as he once more covered her lips with his own. He kissed her slowly but firmly and soon she felt her back land on the hard wooden surface of the desk. With him leaning over her, she continued working on the buttons of his shirt until her hands had access to his warm skin.

His fingers were slightly coarse as they glided up her thighs. Up, up until she felt him pushing her dress over her hips until her stomach lay bare.

He planted a peck just above her bellybutton.

“How the fuck is your skin softer than that bloody fabric.”, he groaned against her, the rumble of his voice sending jolts of electricity through her.

The giggle that escaped her sounded nothing like it usually did. It was deep and hoarse and made her sound every bit as horny as she currently was.

He pushed the dress the rest of the way off and over Sansa’s head, exposing her pale blue lace bra to him. She was sure he was going to dive straight for her breasts, but when he leaned closer, it was to kiss her neck. 

“You know what amazes me?” His voice was low, seeping into every crevice of her being. Sansa heard herself moan and he chukled darkly. “How someone can be so sweet whilst ogling my cock the way you did this morning.”, he said and she could feel his teeth lightly scrape against her pulse point.

“So you noticed?, she asked weakly. 

He stopped what he was doing and pulled back enough so that he could see her face. A smirk was tugging at his lips.

“Did I notice?”, he asked, incredulously. “You were practically drooling.”

“I was not!”, she swatted at his chest, but couldn’t stay serious for long. “Well, it was the sweatpants fault!

His grin grew even wider.

“Gotta have something to show off first, sweetheart”, he said, wickedly.

Heat pooled down in her belly.

“Go on.”, she said, raising her head a bit, daring him.

He quirked one eyebrow at her but didn’t comply. Instead he stole a final kiss, swift and hard from her, before he disappeared out of view.

A sudden pang of fear made her heart thump faster in her chest. She had heard about life flashing before your eyes when your were close to death, but no one ever talked about the things that would flash through her mind as her bosses head was planted between her thighs. Her very quick shower this morning. A whole day of running around the office. 

On the rare few occasions that Joffrey had deigned to go down on her, it had always been when she was straight from the shower.

“Um, I-I..”, she began, cut short when his head peaked up over the desk, between her legs. She could feel her cheeks flush at his questioning look. “I haven’t showered since this morning. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with.. with that.” She finished, gesturing awkwardly in the general direction of her crotch.

“Do I look uncomfortable?”, he rasped. His fingers where inching up her thighs. 

No, he certainly didn’t. With a tingle of anticipation she decided that he almost looked hungry.

“No, but Joffrey...”, she heard herself say. “He didn’t like it if I hadn’t.. he didn’t like it.”

His hands curled around her waist, his thumbs stroking gentle circles into her skin.

“Wanker.”, he said. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you if I feel uncomfortable if you will do the same for me. Quid pro quo.”

He stretched his hand out in front of her and Sansa realised he meant for her to shake it. When she took it he grinned at her and she couldn’t help but do the same.

When he peeled off her panties, her nerves were all but gone, replaced by a raw need. He swung her legs over his shoulders with ease and Sansa grasped the edge of the desk.

She gasped loudly when she felt the flat of his tongue against her sensitive flesh. He alternated between sucking and licking until Sansa almost felt dizzy with pleasure. When she felt his finger dip into her she moaned.

“Good?”, his voice came, slightly muffled against her core.

The string of syllables that she uttered as a reply must have been all the go ahead he needed, because he continued what he had been doing. 

Once he hooked his finger and started stroking her g-spot it didn’t take long before she was arching her back off the table, breathless and flushed from top to toe. Her heels dug into his shoulders and when he covered her clit with his lips and sucked, her thighs clamped hard over his ears. White hot fire erupted down low and tingled its ways through her arms and legs, through every atom that made up Sansa Stark.

Her breath came in bursts and her heart was hammering. She felt boneless, pliable like clay and completely inhibited by the fact that she hadn’t bothered closing her legs even though Mr Clegane was no longer occupying the space between them.

He looked pretty winded himself. A smug grin was plastered across his face. A well earned grin, she mused.

Her thigh rubbed against his front and she could feel how hard he was against her. With some difficulty, she managed to prop herself on one elbow whilst she reached for the the top button on of his pants.

“We don’t have to go any further.”, he rasped, stroking her leg.

“Do you want me to beg?” It was supposed to sound like a slightly flirty question, but in her post orgasmic bliss, her voice positively dripped with lust.

“When you put it like that..” His hand slipped to the soft underside of her knee, making her shiver.

She grabbed ahold of his collar and pulled herself up from the table until she was close to his ear.

“Please fuck me.”, she whispered.

Strong arms enveloped her and suddenly she was being lifted through the air. She clung to him, peppering kisses on his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth.

“Damn.”, he breathed. “You are so fucking sexy.”

Sansa smiled. She rarely felt sexy. Nerves and insecurities got in the way most of the times she had spent with Joffrey. Now she felt invincible. 

Her back landed against the couch and then he was on top of her, kissing her senseless. She could taste herself on his lips and she found that it spurred her on even more. Sansa struggled a bit, but after a moment she had unhooked her bra and tossed it onto the floor.

Her nipples pebbled as the air hit them and grew even harder when he swiped his tongue across one and then the other. Then he covered the peak of her left breast and sucked. Closing her eyes, she groaned at the sensation. 

His lips left her breast with a small pop and she could hear him rummaging around a bit and then the tell tale sound of foil ripping.

Sansa peaked up at him just in time to see him roll a condom down his length. Her mouth dropped open at the sight. He hadn’t been kidding when he talked about having something to show off.

“Still so sweet.”, he laughed, pulling her from her from her reverie. 

He pushed into her with a low groan and then stilled, allowing her time to adjust. He didn’t move until she started pushing up against him, urging him to do so. When he did, she gasped, as his long, slow stokes filled her. 

His kisses were unhurried at first, but as he picked up speed they grew in intensity.  
Sansa returned them all with a fire she didn’t knew she had. When she buried her fingers in his hair, he moaned against her lips.

She could feel the coil inside her tightening with every deep thrust. His breathing was becoming laboured and when she wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him deeper, he cursed under his breath. 

“I’m close.”, she panted.

“That makes two of us, sweetheart.” His thrusts were coming a bit more erratic now.

Then his fingers slipped down between them and Sansa saw stars when he found her clit.

This. This was how it was supposed to feel, she thought before coherent thoughts became impossible and she was pushed over the edge once more. He wasn’t far behind, coming with a strangled roar. His hips continued pumping slowly for a while after, as he caught his breath. He looked absolutely spent and Sansa opened her arms. His cheek thudded against her chest when he accepted her invitation and burrowed closer against her. 

Sleep took her only moments later and the last things Sansa thought was that he could hear her heart beating.

Sansa slowly awoke to a world that was tilting and swaying ever so slightly. Her face was pressed against something that was moving. Something warm and slightly fussy. Something that was breathing. It took some effort to peel her eyes open, as the makeup from yesterday had all but glued them shut.

The first thing she saw was the broad expanse of tan skin, dusted with dark hair. Then her eyes landed on the tiny puddle of drool that had formed next to his nipple. 

They were crammed together on the couch with Sansa more or less draped over his chest. She was naked but felt the rustle of fabric against her skin as she moved. His shirt. He must have covered her with it as a makeshift blanket during the night. She used one of the sleeves to gently wipe away the drool.

Her muscles were stiff and there was a dull ache between her legs, but she couldn’t remember ever waking up so content. Sansa wanted noting more than to stay where she was, pressed against him for a little while longe. Her bladder disagreed.

Sansa wrapped the shirt tightly around herself as she tiptoed over the cold floor, thanking the heavens that his office came with an adjoining bathroom. 

When she went to wash her hands she found the sink filled to the brim with water. Sansa stared down at it, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

Rudolf peered up at her from beneath the surface, smiling that same smile she had looked forward to seeing all through October and November as a child. He was bobbing next to his fellow reindeers, who all seemed perfectly happy with their bath.

He had presoaked them. Precisely what she would have done if she hadn’t been so dejected and a slightly drunk last night. For the second time in twenty-four hours, the sight of her favourite plushies almost made Sansa cry, but this time it was with a smile on her lips.

When she returned she found him awake and looking up at her sleepily from the couch. They both stared at each other for a long moment, while Sansa tried to think of something to say. She wanted to thank him for saving her reindeers. She wanted to tell him that last night had been the best sex of her life. She wanted to tell him that she had loved spending time with him.

Before she could figure out where to begin, he spoke.

“Is it too early to order pizza?”, he asked. “Or whatever you’re in the mood for. Pancakes? Waffles?”

Sansa felt laughter bubble up within her. 

“Pizza and coffee sounds like the perfect breakfast.”, she smiled.

He nodded and stretched his muscled arms as best as he could on the cramped couch. 

“After round two?”, she asked, biting her lip.

He blinked at her a few times and then a crooked grin spread across his face. Sitting up, he grabbed her hand and pulled her down into a warm embrace.


End file.
